


Morning After

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Draco's a demanding drunk, Potter's a morning person. This should not work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for Slythindor100's March prompt# 204: Word list (treat, five, snails, kiss, witty, stupendous, competition, duck, soggy, learn, follow, crowded, unable, feeble, four, unknown, potion, interest, poised, opposite.)
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Morning After

~

Sleeping in is a rare treat, so as Draco slowly wakes, he revels in the cosy warmth. Content, he yawns, stretching all four limbs. When his foot encounters an unknown person, however, he freezes. 

“Morning!” The person’s nauseatingly cheerful. “Are you okay? Do you need a potion? You were pretty pissed last night.”

Draco sighs, sitting up and steeling himself to kick whoever he’s pulled out. “Look, last night was nice, I’m sure, but I don’t do mornings after, so you can g—” His mouth falls open when he realises who’s there. “Potter?” he wheezes.

Potter shifts closer, and Draco has a brief image of that mouth descending for a kiss. Draco shakes his head, pushing the memory away. “What are you doing here?”

“I guess you _were_ really drunk.” Potter’s smile dims. “You don’t remember anything?” 

Draco shakes his head.

“Right.” Potter leans back against the headboard, poised in his nakedness. “I suppose I should start with the competition.” 

Potter’s body is fit, his chest stupendous. Draco, mouth watering, struggles to look Potter in the eyes. “Competition?”

“Yeah. Seamus bet you could outdrink me.” 

Draco has another flash of memory, this time of a crowded room, him on one side, Potter on the opposite, eyeing each other with interest. He ducks his head. “And I lost?” 

Potter’s easy laugh slides down Draco’s spine. “Godric, no! You wiped the floor with me. I’m guessing you’ve had some practice with drinking games.” 

Draco, unable to hold it back, smiles. “Anyone who lives in the same dorm as Blaise Zabini learns to hold their liquor.” 

“Ah, so that’s your secret.” 

Draco clears his throat. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re naked in my bed.” He licks his lips. “Did we—?”

“Shag?” Potter hums. “Afraid not.”

“Oh.” Draco’s inexplicably disappointed. “So what happened?”

“We were matching each other drink for drink,” Potter said. “Everyone got bored after a while, so they wandered off, and by the time I gave up and conceded, we were both pissed.”

“Okay.” Draco inclines his head.

“We ordered some chips to see if they’d help, but they were soggy.” Potter made a face. “After that, we decided we’d just leave, sleep it off.” 

“And I brought you here to do that?” 

Potter nods. “You’re really bossy when you’re drunk, Malfoy. Bossy and clingy.” He grins. “You would not let go of me. I figured I’d follow you home, then leave, but when we got here, you insisted I get in bed.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “And you…agreed?”

Potter flushes. “I was just…unable to say no. The next thing I knew you were telling me to strip, and whenever I started for the door you dragged me back, so—” He shrugs. 

Striving to be poised, Draco gathers the sheets around him. “Why are you still here?” he asked. “Once I was asleep you could have left.” 

Potter’s expression shifts as he watches Draco closely. “Because I’ve fancied you for a while, and I figured why not give it a go? We were both too drunk to do anything last night, but I thought maybe if we both still had interest this morning, we could see what happens—”

Mind foggy, Draco devoutly wishes for a Wit Sharpening Potion. He could use some of his usual witty repartee instead of his currently slow-as-snails mental faculties. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

Potter’s face falls and he shifts towards the edge of the bed. “Looks like that’s a no. Sorry I bothered you—”

“Wait.” Draco grasps Potter’s arm. “I’m not saying no.” 

Potter goes still. “What are you saying?” 

“That I’m not yet alert enough for this conversation. Give me five minutes.” 

Potter brightens. “Of course. Maybe I could use your loo?” 

Draco gestures. “Through that door.” 

“Thanks.” And when Potter, looking supremely comfortable in his nakedness, gets out of bed and strides towards the bathroom. Draco subtly checks out his arse and bits. Of course he’s big, and his arse is fine. Draco’s own cock twitches.

“Salazar,” Draco groans once the door closes. Reaching over to the nightstand, he searches the top drawer, finding a Hangover Potion. Next to it is the lube, and, after a brief hesitation, he takes both out. 

The Hangover Potion clears his head almost immediately, and the rest of the memories from the previous night filter into his brain. By the time Potter emerges from the loo, Draco’s himself again. “How long?” he asks. 

Potter walks to Draco’s side of the bed and sits on the edge. “How long what?” 

“Have you fancied me?” 

“Does it matter?” Potter nods at the tube of lube sitting on the bed. “Looks like you’ve made a decision.” 

Draco smirks. “I suppose I have. I was just curious.” 

“Maybe we can discuss it after,” Potter says, shifting closer. “After all, if we’re not good together, it doesn’t matter, does it?” 

Not good together? Draco almost snorts. “I suspect we’ll be all right.” 

“Time will—” 

Impatient, Draco grabs Potter’s shoulders, kissing him. Adjusting immediately, Potter angles his head, his tongue sliding into Draco’s mouth to stroke and tease. 

The kiss gentles, slows, and as Potter presses Draco back onto the bed and climbs on top of him, Draco cedes control, giving himself up to Potter. 

As Draco expected, sex with Potter is addictive. Potter’s scent envelops him, his hands and mouth sliding against Draco’s skin and sending bursts of pleasure shooting to Draco’s core. 

Eventually, Potter turns him over and parts his legs. “Hold yourself open for me,” he growls, and Draco’s not even ashamed, his body’s so lit up, trembling with anticipation. He obeys, shivering as he waits to see what Potter will do. 

“Gorgeous,” Potter whispers, and then, shockingly, after the tingle of a Cleansing Charm washes over him, there’s a moist lick, and Draco falls apart. 

He can be loud during sex, time has taught him to be grateful for the built-in Silencing Charms on his flat, but this…this is too much, even for him. He forgets himself, forgets everything as his world narrows to the press of Potter’s tongue as it circles his rim, occasionally boring inside. He cries out, he shouts, he implores, yet Potter is implacable, moving at his own pace, he takes his time, savouring Draco.

Draco’s babbling nonsense. Long since having given up holding himself open, he’s clutching the sheets, pressing his arse back against Potter’s face as he begs for more. 

When Potter finally pulls back, Draco’s humping the bed, gasping. “Fuck,” Potter whispers. “I was going to take my time with this, too, but sod that.” 

Potter’s hastily cast Stretching and Lubrication Charm makes Draco shiver, but before he can gather his scattered wits enough to say anything, it’s too late. Potter’s prick is nudging at his hole, his thick shaft piercing him, and he’s driving deep, lighting Draco up like no one else before. 

When Draco’s orgasm washes over him, Potter just rides him through it, and as soon as Draco’s shudders subside, Potter begins the true fucking, his thrusts morphing into long, sliding, rough pushes that soon have Draco arching his back once again.

“Should see yourself,” Potter whispers. “So fucking gorgeous.” 

Draco’s cock is coming to life again, and panting, he gasps, “More fucking, less talking!” 

Potter laughs darkly. “Knew you’d be demanding,” he says, and then, before Draco can respond to that, Potter’s slamming into him, and there are no more words, only sensation. 

Amazingly, Draco’s cock is hard, and he trembling on the brink of another orgasm when he feels Potter begin to come. Grinding himself into Draco, Potter practically howls as he empties himself. 

Sliding his hand under his body, Draco strokes himself once, twice, before he’s coming again, his muscles tightening on Potter’s cock that’s still buried in him. He howls into the pillow.

Behind him, Potter moans weakly, collapsing onto Draco as he struggles to catch his breath. After a moment, he rolls off, collapsing beside Draco. 

It takes a while, and Draco’s struggling against post-coital lethargy, but he manages to roll onto his back and turn his head to look at Potter. “So how long?” he asks.

Potter cracks open one eye. “What?” 

Draco rolls his eyes. “How long have you fancied me? We said we’d discuss it after.” 

Slowly, Potter smiles. “Does that mean it was all right?” 

“Obviously. I don’t howl for just anyone, Potter, so yes, it was…acceptable.” 

Potter grins. “Sixth year. Although I didn’t especially like you at the time.” 

Draco snorts, closing his eyes. “The feeling was mutual, trust me.” 

He feels the bed shift, and when he opens his eyes again, Potter is sitting up on his elbows, staring down at him. “So what now?” 

Draco yawns. “Are you working today?”

Potter frowns. “No. Why?” 

“I suppose I do owe you breakfast.” 

“So…I can stay?” 

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Hard to have breakfast if you’re not staying.” 

“Right.” Potter smiles. “But you seemed like you were going to kick me out before, so—”

“Oh. Well, that was before I knew it was y—” Draco coughs. “Before I heard about last night.” He smirks. “Plus, as I said, you’re a decent fuck, you’ve earned breakfast.” 

“Thanks,” Potter says, tone dry. Leaning down, he kisses Draco, pulling back when they’re both gasping. “Next time I’ll strive to be better than just decent.” 

If next time’s any better, Draco’s not sure he’ll survive. He hums. “See that you do. Now, stay here while I cook.” And rolling out of bed, he Summons a dressing gown.

“Sure you don’t want help?” Potter asks, lounging. He doesn’t move to cover himself, even under Draco’s open appraisal. 

“I require no help, but I wouldn’t say no to some company,” Draco finally says. 

“Company it is.” Sliding out of bed, Potter looks around. “Do you have a spare dressing gown?” 

Nodding, Draco Summons him one, smirking when it proves slightly too small. Not that he’s about to object to Potter flashing his bits every time he moves. “So,” he says, once Potter’s wrapped the too small gown about his muscled frame. “What else happened at the party last night?” 

And as he cooks for Potter he decides perhaps he does do mornings after under certain circumstances. 

~


End file.
